Try To See It My Way
by phantomlimb21
Summary: Derek has no fucking clue about what to do. He doesn't know how to woo someone. Let alone if that someone is Stiles
1. Witches Awesome

Pack meetings were boring. There really was no other way to put it. Ever since the Kanima and Gerard incident, things had been quiet. It's not that Stiles didn't appreciate the silence. It just made everything really fucking boring. So to be fair, Stiles kinda hated pack meetings. Not only did it bore Stiles; it also made him feel out of place. Oh, he was thankful that they included him now in their trusted circle. But he had no one to talk to. Sure, Scott was there but all Scott wanted to talk about was Allison. And Stiles could only take **so much** poetry about Allison's hair. Isaac was cool but he had such a hard-on for Scott, that Scott was literally all he talked about.

And yeah, Stiles loves Scott.

But not that much.

Because, seriously, he's the one who convinced Scott glue was not food in kindergaden.

He's not impressed.

Erica and Boyd were always off doing God-knows-what and no way was Stiles going to ATTEMPT conversation with Jackson, but even if he tried, Jackson was too busy on the phone arguing with Lydia.

**Fuck** Peter.

So that just left Derek. Conversation was impossible with Derek. Derek was either in stoney silence or barking orders; there was no in-between. But that didn't stop Stiles from giving him the good `Ole Stilinski babble. Normal pack meetings were basically spent in a lot of eye rolling and babble. However, this pack meeting was diffrent.

"Witches?" Scott said bewildered.

"Witches." Derek confirmed.

Stiles stopped his epic pencil drum roll on his thigh. The silence was a bit tense as the new information sunk in.

"So how are we going to kill them?" Jackson asked bluntly as he put away his phone.

Stiles pointed his pencil at him and said "No, bad dog!"

Jackson glared at him.

"If you have any ACTUAL useful suggestions, please, by all means, tell us, Stilinski."

Stiles rolled his eyes and continued his train of thought out loud. "Well we can't just kill people just because they're witches! That's persecution and it didn't work out too well if records show by the Salem witch trials. Are we seriously going to revert back to thinking like we're from the 1700s? "

Everyone groaned in annoyance except for Scott , who said "Stiles," in an exasperated voice.

Stiles snorted.

"Wow, so you're completely fine with killing these guys just because of what they are. Sound familiar? It should. Because you've suddenly become hunters. You're no better than the Argents!"

Saying that was going too far and he knew it. Derek's eyes were now a lovely shade of I'm-the-Alpha-Now-and-You've-Pissed-Me-Off red.

"**Stiles.**" Derek boomed, so loudly, Stiles's hand reflexidly briefly turned into a fist.

A low whine was emitted from the betas. The Alpha was displeased and it showed.

In a cold, flat tone, Derek said "No Stiles, we are not like the Argents."

He barely spoke any words but the look he sent at Stiles spoke volumes.

Derek continued to stare him down, trying to make Stiles uncomfortable, so he'd look away first. He stood his ground and glared right back at Derek. He knew it wasn't a smart move because this competitive glaring was probably some stupid Challenge-The-Alpha thing but he was too frustrated to care. After a long period that felt like way too long to Stiles (but was really only a minute),one of the betas coughed and that made them both look away. Derek cleared his throat and Stiles looked up to see a brief flash of the blue-green that are Derek Hale's eyes studying his face. Stiles couldn't even try to stop the blush that colored his pale cheeks. Derek clenched his jaw and turned away, muttering to himself. Embaressed, Stiles suddenly became fascinated with his shoe laces.

"Derek." All heads turned towards the doorway to find Lydia holding out a map.

"What?" Derek asked sullenly.

Lydia rolled her eyes, impatiently shook the map and said "I found them, Derek. I found the witches. The witches we've been looking for, the witches you asked me to look for, remember?"

Derek's response to that was to grit his teeth. Lydia had become a nice asset when she joined the pack but sometimes she got on Derek's nerves.

Actually, everyone got on Derek's nerves.

Its a thing.

The pack started for the door but before they could exit, Stiles barricaded it.

"Stiles, get out of my way," Jackson said.

Stiles shook his head, head held high.

"Stiles, come onnnnn, I have to go pick up Allison!"

"I'm not moving until you all promise not to hurt the witches, just until we have evidence they did anything that deserves mauling or mild concussions or throat slashing."

Eveyone glared at Stiles but Stiles only had eyes for Derek. The pack could moan and groan all they wanted, but in the end they'd do whatever Derek told them to do.

"Please, Derek," Stiles said in a pleading voice.

It was his eyes. It was always those huge fucking Bambi eyes that screwed Derek over. Derek's left eye visbly twitched as he gave in.

"Fine. We'll give them a chance to explain themselves for coming into our territory, by friday. Which gives them two days."

Stiles sighed in visble relief.

Derek inched forward, the pack moving aside as he made his way to stand in front of Stiles's face.

"But if we find any evidence that they're connected to Peter's random dissaperance, I'll rip their throats out myself. Understood?" He said, his breath a brief warm pressure against Stiles's cheek

He bit his bottom lip in nervousness.

Derek's eyes glinted red for one brief second and yeah, Stiles completely under-fucking-stood.

"Yeah, yeah, I got you, buddy. Loud and clear."

He nodded his head enthusiastically and stepped aside for the pack to get through. Jackson bumped into him menacingly and ran off with Lydia, who trailed behind him and who blew Stiles a kiss. He smiled briefly. Scott ran out yelling a quick "Thanks Bro!" over his shoulder. Isaac smiled shyly at him, dimples blinding Stiles, making it physically impossible for Stiles to resist the urge to ruffle Isaac's curls. Isaac had finally opened up to the pack and he was basically the baby of the group. Even though he wasn't a werewolf, even Stiles understood Isaac needed physical affection.

Isaac gave him a real smile and a hug.

Derek was the last one to exit. He stood in the door way with a look that Stiles really couldn't decipher which bothered him because his mind was a safe and he had a file that catalogued all of Derek Hale's expressions and he didn't know this one.

It made him nervous.

Which made him babble.

Awesome.

"So...where were Boyd and Erica today?"

Derek frowned at the random question.

"Probably at Sally's diner. Why do you ask?"

Stiles leaned against the door.

"Oh...you know...cuz they missed out on...witches. And the not hurting a witch if they see one...Not that you can tell who's a witch. I mean, I guess you could but they'd have to be in like full Hogwarts gear, so yeah. Do you um, have a pottermore, by the way, because I have like a theory on what house everyone would be in and which house you'd be in but maybe you alrea.."

The look of confusion was on Derek's face and that shut Stiles right up. He bit his lip in frustration with himself.

Derek dissected what he could from that stream of chatter and said "Well, Stiles, I'll tell them about the witches and not hurting them until we have all the answers. And werewolves can identify witches by the way they smell. Which is usually of smoke."

Thank god Derek was already use to the babbling. He was about to leave when Stiles put a hand on his shoulder.

He turned to look at Stiles.

"About the witches, thank you," Stiles said, biting his lips with a passion.

Derek briefly followed the movement in fascination but then composed himself and looked Stiles in the eyes and nodded his head in acknowledgement. Then Derek looked down at Stiles's hand on his shoulder and Stiles casually retracted his hand. Derek rolled his eyes and muttered to himself as he walked away.

Just before he left, he turned around to face Stiles and said "Hufflepuff."

And with that, he was gone.

His mind clicked and Stiles scoffed in disbelief because clearly there was no way Derek ever read (not with those muscles unless he bench pressed with Encyclopedias) and closed the door behind himself. These days, pack meetings were held in the old abandoned warehouse near Beacon Hill's old hardware store. Since Derek started renovations on the old Hale house and he refused to house a bored Werewolf pack in his new quaint apartment; they had to find places that wouldn't look too inconspicuous for a bunch of teenagers to hang out in. Stiles walked out to his car, pulling up his hoodie as it started to rain. He pat down his front pocket for his keys and hahaha just his luck, they weren't there. He looked around, looking to see if he'd dropped his keys on the ground.

Of course not.

He turned to see that the parking lot was empty. He sighed in defeat when he realized he'd have to walk back to the warehouse to find his keys. He was just about to walk back to the warehouse when he heard a twig snap right behind him. He turned around and that was his mistake.

Everything went black as the fist connected with his face.


	2. I Was Never That Much Into Bondage

There was a pounding in his head. A sort of loud throbbing, if you may. His eyelids felt too heavy to open but he forced them wide. Immediantly, he regretted that decision. The lightbulb hanging above him felt jarring.

"Oh good. You're awake. And here I thought this rescue mission was futile."

Stiles would have rolled his eyes but it felt like too much work. So he opted for sticking his middle finger out.

"How original," Peter drawled out.

Stiles turned to the right to face Peter, who had his hands tied with chains to the railing above his head. Peter was also covered in wires like the ones Stiles had seen on Erica and Boyd that one time in the Argents's basement. Realization hit him and he groaned as he looked up to see he was in the same predicament.

Minus the wires.

"No really, Stiles. Any minute now, just bust out with that super-human strength of yours," Peter said dripping with sarcasm.

Any other day he'd have a good come back.

But at the moment, he was chained up and being held hostage with one of the most annoying werewolves he's ever had the misfortune to meet.

So forgive him if he's a little slow on the sarcastic quips.

"Just..Shut up," Stiles gritted out.

He tried to move his arms but that only made his chains dig in deeper. He knew yanking on the chains would do nothing but hurt him, but still, he had to try. He winced in pain. The chains wouldn't give, so all he could really do was hang his head in defeat. He looked around at his surroundings, taking in the musty scent of dirt and moth balls .Okay, so a basement? He looked around and nope, no windows, so he was in a cellar. Not a lot of houses in Beacon Hills had cellars; just the older houses.

Like the Hale house.

Or what was left of it.

The shelves pushed up against the walls were strippped bare, so no weapons to help him escape. He glanced at Peter. Peter barely had the strength of a beta and he'd always heal slower than the rest of the pack. Plus with the shock currents that had been running through his body, he no doubt was drained. Stiles's head pulsated, reminding him sharply that he was probably suffering a minor concussion and thinking was reeaally not helping. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath.

"Guess we're stuck here for awhile. Together forever. Isn't that just cozy."

Stiles tried to kick him but he just ended up popping something in his wrist. He took a sharp intake of breath at the pain.

"Well there goes your only source of sexual satisfaction," Peter said.

After he caught his breath, he asked Peter impatiently "How long was I out?"

Peter smirked at him and said "Fourty minutes tops, you wimp."

Stiles scoffed.

"Ok, well someone's bound to notice I'm missing. I mean, I'm the Sheriff's son and besides, without me, Scott wouldn't even be able to wipe his ass. Not that I've ever done that... with him...before."

Peter gave him a curious look but Stiles refused delve deeper into THAT story.

Peter chuckled darkly after a bit and said "Oh don't you worry your pretty little head, our precious Alpha will no doubt find us soon enough."

Stiles rolled his eyes (even though it hurt like a bitch, but force of habit) and said "Ok, who are you, like who even says pretty little head anymore? Like no wonder we all think you're a creep, you talk like a friggin disney villan!"

Before Peter could answer him, there was a loud scraping as the door to the musty cellar they were in opened. A tall thin blonde came into view. She would have been devastatingly beautiful had it not been for the fact that she was sneering at them with obvious contempt.

"So you two are part of the Hale pack. A burnout and a scrawny teenager. Charming."

She said all of this in such a condescending tone, Stiles almost asked her if she was a Malfoy because jesus, who even talks like that except ficional characters?

"Hale pack? What is that? Is that like some new grunge band because to be fair, I'm more into pop rock indie."

The woman chuckled and got in Stiles's face.

"Huh, you've got quite a mouth on you. It's a good thing you're cute."

Stiles gave her an obviously fake smile. "I try."

The woman giggled. "However, I know for a fact that you do know Derek because you reek of him. His scent is ETCHED into your skin. It's like you bathed in him."

Stiles tried very hard not to let the woman's words effect him but they still made his heart beat furiously fast. She smirked at his obvious reaction as a blush settled in his face.

"Oh my, ever the blushing virgin."

By now, Stiles's face was on fire.

"Oh please, just get on with the real torture, before you make the virgin burst into tears."

The woman snarled at Peter.

"You will talk when spoken to! "

Peter rolled his eyes, stood up straighter and very dramatically said "Bite Me. "

She chuckled darkly and then let out a shrill whistle. The cellar door opened and in came two men with bats.

"Alright boys, try not to damage the goods too badly. We need them alive. Remember one of them is human and the other is a werewolf. So go slow with one and make it count with the other."

And with that, she left Stiles and Peter to their beatings.


	3. Something's Gone Terribly Wrong

He wasn't in his room. Derek had already checked.

Twice.

Lydia kept telling him to calm down but that only made him even more agitated.

"Derek, maybe he just went out to get something to eat. He is a growing seventeen year old boy," Lydia said with a casualness that grated on Derek's nerves.

"He would have left a note for his father like he always does when he goes out," Derek gritted out

Lydia rolled her eyes.

"The fact that you know that says so much," Erica chirped unhelpfully from the backseat.

Derek kindly ignored her and gripped the steering wheel to the Camaro.

"Yeah, no, Scott hasn't seen him since the pack meeting," Boyd said as he hung up on Jackson.

Derek glanced back at Boyd and waited for him to give a status report.

Boyd cleared his throat to speak, not needing to be prompted and said "Jackson is searching the woods by the old house, Isaac went to check the apartment and Scott's at the Stilinski house looking for any clues."

Derek nearly snarled.

"Tell Scott he's wasting time, valuable time that isin't even his to spend and to focus on populated areas in town," Derek said as he sharply turned the corner for the abandoned warehouse.

Boyd nodded in acknowledgement and procceded to call Scott.

"Derek, I think you need to relax," Lydia said as Derek's eyes turned deeper shades of red as they drove closer to the warehouse.

"Lydia, tell me to calm down one more time and I'll claw your throat out," Derek growled.

Lydia took one moment to pause and give him the stink eye before she continued on.

"I understand your frustration about this current situation. Had I been in your shoes and it was Jackson missing, I too would also be in angered panic."

It took Derek a full minute to understand what she was insinuating. Derek nearly hit his head against the side window as he turned to face her.

"What exactly do you mean by THAT?" he snapped back.

Derek could literally feel all the eye rolls in the car.

"I think we all know exactly what she means by that, Derek," Erica answered.

Oh my god, these betas had death wishes.

Derek was about to remind them who was boss but they had finally arrived at the warehouse and the driveway held all the evidence that confirmed Derek's suspicion. Parked where it had been since he'd last seen it, was Stiles's powder blue Jeep. Derek had barely parked his car when he got out of it and ran to the Jeep. The pack followed him. And there, all over the car, was Stiles's scent. But what stood out the most was the freshest scent. The scent of fear. Stiles's fear.

Being the Alpha of a pack required complete control and discipline. Most of the time, Derek possessed these qualities

But not today.

He let out a whine and had to seriously stop himself from howling in pain; because Stiles was gone and Derek just couldn't...

The members of the pack that was there with him felt his pain and tried to give him comfort by resting a reassuring hand on his back.

He appreciated the effort.

"We'll find him, Derek. I promise you, we'll find him," Lydia said, voice choked with emotion.

And find him, they did.


	4. What Happens In The Cellar Stays There

It was already the dead of night when the pack approached the witches's hide-out. The woods were silent as the wolves entered them; every animal hiding as they sensed unknown predators lurking in the shadows. The witches were in an old house, abandoned many years ago. The house was falling apart, rotting from the inside out. This house had been forgotten by most but Derek remembered this house vividly. He'd seen it in it's prime. He'd played in this house many a time. Scott and Isaac approached the busted out window of the house with caution. Derek smelled the air, noting that the witches were in the house. He could hear five heart beats. There was another smell but Derek ignored it.

He was more focused on finding Stiles.

Lydia, Allison and Jackson tredded near the porch, hiding from view. Derek looked behind to catch the barest golden glint of Boyd and Erica's eyes. He nodded in acknowledgement, knowing full well they'd be able to see it. The plan was to rescue Stiles. Whatever the cost. If it came down to a fight, they'd fight. But saving Stiles was the most important goal.

He closed his eyes, letting his sense of smell take him to Stiles.

He was hit with the familiar smell of Stiles, faint by the house but more concentrated in the back of the house. He walked to the back to find that there was a cellar. Under closer inspection, he could faintly hear two heart beats. One of them was human and was so familiar to him, it felt like his own heart beat. He tentatively opened the door and was hit with the scent of blood, so strong, he wanted to gag. He panicked and threw himself down those stairs and there he found Stiles.

His Stiles. And...well Peter was also there, but whatever.

Stiles was hanging from a pipe with a split lip, cuts all over his face and deep cuts on his wrists with heavy bruises. Peter was in better condition but only because of the werewolf healing. But he'd endured more than Stiles judging by how most of the blood splattered on the floor was Peter's. Derek snapped to work and started taking apart Stiles's chains. Stiles acknowledged his presence with a whimper of pain. Derek stopped and lightly cupped Stiles's face with one hand.

"Hey shh shh I'm here now. I'm gonna get you out of here, I promise," he murmured reassuringly.

He gently moved his hand from Stiles's face and lightly put it on Stiles's chest. Black veins intertwined all around Derek's arm as he leeched away the pain. Without warning, the veins suddenly turned light blue. Alarmed, Derek tried to remove his hand but found that he couldn't. It was as if he was glued to Stiles. His chest suddenly felt heavy and he felt like he couldn't breathe. It was almost as if he was drowning only he knew better. There was a heavy pounding in his head. Was that his heart beat? No no, that was Stiles's heart beat and it was all Derek could hear. He felt dizzy. He tried to focus because he was here to help Stiles. Stiles needed help. Stiles needed his help. A white light shot out of his hand and into Stiles's chest and it hurt. It felt like he was being burned from the inside out. He looked at Stiles and saw that some color had returned to his face and now his cheeks had a rosy tint to them. The pain was unbearable and Derek had to clamp down on his other hand to stop himself from whimpering.

Stiles opened his eyes and that's when the light stopped. Derek slumped forward in exhaustion.

"Derek?" Stiles croaked.

"Yeah, I'm here , Stiles," Derek said tiredly.

He went back to working on the chain, acting like nothing had happened. He yanked on the chains harshly, making Stiles gasp in pain. Derek stopped.

"Sorry," he grunted.

"No problem," Stiles said breathlessly.

Derek went back to the chains as Stiles rambled.

"Wow, I can't believe you found me," he said, sightly coughing.

"Well believe it," Derek murmured.

"Guess you really are a Hufflepuff. You're a great finder," Stiles said smiling manically

Derek rolled his eyes.

"Really, Stiles? Now's not exactly the time for jokes," he grunted.

"You're just jealous because I'm funny and you're not," he said mockingly.

"More like you're a manic and I value my sanity," Derek answered back childishly.

The chains gave way and Stiles was able to slide them off. He groaned in pain and rubbed his wrists in grimace. Derek put one of Stiles's arms around his neck and walked to the wall to let him lean there as he freed Peter. Peter looked up at him from his bowed head.

"Oh look, my knight in shining moonlight has come to rescue me."

Even when he's literally been beaten to a bloody pulp and is an inch from death, Peter Hale still thinks he's a fucking comedian.

"I'll leave you here," Derek said through gritted teeth as he yanked on Peter's chains.

They both knew he'd never leave him.

The chains came apart after three yanks.

"Can you walk?" Derek asked.

Peter nodded. Derek grabbed Stiles and held him bridal style. By now, the adrenaline had left Stiles's body and now he was deliriously in pain.

"No no no, Derek. Put me down. I am not a damsel," Stiles said pressed up against Derek's chest.

Derek tried not to react to having Stiles's lips pressed against him. His shirt was acting as a barrier but that didn't mean he couldn't feel the heat coming out of Stiles's mouth. Peter smirked at him.

He glared at him.

"Shut up, Stiles, you're going to get us killed," he said without much heat.

Tiptoeing, Derek and Peter opened the door cautiously so as not to cause too much noise.

Which was really fucking pointless because the witches were all waiting for them.

Along with a surprise.


	5. This Bitch

Derek glared at the blonde woman in the front.

"Veronica," he said tightly.

The woman (apparently named Veronica) smiled at him, showing white teeth that were a bit too sharp for comfort.

"I see you've found your little pet," she said, her eyes flashing red.

Of course. She's an alpha. Like this wasn't complicated enough.

Derek's jaw tightened. There was movement in the corner of his eye and he was not the only one to notice it. The witches, two tall shaggy-looking twins, a short Chinese girl with colorful hair, a guy who looked like he needed a certificate from the gym telling him he was done and a curvy red head, stepped forward but stayed put as Veronica held up a hand to motion them to stop.

"Since I am ever the traditionalist, I'll let one of your betas treat your wounded," Veronica said with a smirk.

Wow. Never had Derek wanted to hit someone as strongly as he wanted to hit Veronica; and he lives with Peter. Isaac appeared out of the shadows. Derek's hold on Stiles briefly tightened as Stiles mumbled incoherent words against his chest as he woke in and out of consciousness. Isaac stepped forward and held out his hands.

Derek lightly placed Stiles in his hold and whispered into Isaac's ear "Take care of them."

Isaac nodded stiffly and bounded out with Stiles in hand and Peter tagging along. Derek looked until they were completely out of his line of vision. He turned back to face Veronica. He stared at her cold smile.

"Why are you working with witches, Veronica? Most of them kill our kind," he said.

Veronica sneered at him.

"Oh Derek, you really don't understand what power truly feels like until you've had magic on your side. And money can buy so much loyalty, you wouldn't believe."

Derek snarled.

Veronica tilted her head and gave a fake pout.

"Oh Derek, don't be like that. It's not my fault that the only thing you've ever known is pack love. No wonder you'd do anything for your little band of misfits. Honestly, teenagers? Were those the only people that would respect you?"

Derek gave her a warning growl. She smiled at him.

"Honestly, you brought a bunch of babies to a fight between fully trained witches and a rougue Alpha. Honestly, who put you in charge?"

Veronica and Derek started circling each other.

"Veronica, what happened to you? I remember you. We grew up together. I remember your family. They were good people," he said.

"Your point, Der?" she said mockingly.

Derek's nostrils flared over the nickname.

"So I know you were never meant to be the Alpha. That was going to be your brother's position after your father's passing," he said all this in quiet horror.

Veronica sneered at him and said "Not all of us feel bad about killing our family. You should follow my example, Derek."

Derek snarled at her. She just giggled.

"Ah Der, you still haven't changed. You're still the-" she stopped mid-sentence.

She sniffed the air and stared at him in bewilderment.

"Did you...did you...in my cellar?" She said in semi-disgust.

Derek pressed into himself, appearing smaller than he actually was, in embaressment.

"Oh my..oh my god you did," she said in shock.

He shifted uncomfortably. The witches talked among themselves in confusion.

"Shut up!" She yelled at them.

Immediately, they obeyed.

"Thank you," she said.

She glanced back at Derek and smirked.

"Are we gonna fight or not, Ronny?" He asked impatiently.

Veronica snarled at the nickname.

"Don't call me that!" She hissed.

"Why? Remind you too much of your father?" He asked.

Veronica acted indifferent to his comment.

"Don't try to change the topic, Der. I smell it. I smell what you did in my cellar. You're lucky your whole family is already dead because if they weren't, they'd of died from the shame of what you did. Every werewolf would have shunned them. You've disgraced your family's name," she said with malice.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Derek said through gritted teeth.

Veronica flashed him a manic smile.

"He doesn't even know, does he?"

Derek refused to answer, which just made her smile even more.

"And you'll never tell him because you'll take what you can get. Because who would want something as broken, as burnt as you?"

Her cackle turned into a scream as Derek lunged at her and ripped her throat out. He spit out her blood and for good measure, clawed out her throat. The witches trembled but still prepared to fight Derek. That's when the rest of his pack crept through. The betas fought with the witches and won, something that wasn't that hard to do because the witches weren't that experienced and had thought they'd simply win because Veronica intended to kill Derek and take his pack. They didn't kill the witches (courtesy to Stiles) but they made sure those particular witches would never come back to Beacon Hills. Derek was told Stiles had been driven to the hospital by Scott.

The pack assured him that they were all fine and they were all about to go their separate ways (Derek to the hospital because Stiles) when Peter knocked on his window.

Derek rolled down his window and said "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Peter chuckled and said "No but I think you do."

Derek refused to blush. His face apparently didn't get the memo

Peter smirked.

"But seriously Derek, Stiles? I mean, I know it's not something you choose, but Stiles? Literally, you had so many other choices."

Derek grinded his teeth. Peter smiled bemusedly.

"I suppose it could be worse. It could have been Jackson. Such a pretty face yet such a lacking personality."

Derek left skid marks.


	6. Hospital For The Hostile

He hated hospitals; always had. Ever since his mom had died, he hadn't been in one. The fact that he was in the very same one she had been in made him want to cry. He stopped himself from doing just that and focused on his surroundings. He knew Scott drove him to the hospital in a panicked hurry, despite Stiles telling him to just take him home. Scott had called the Sheriff and told him about Stiles's condition. The Sheriff told Scott he'd meet him at the hospital. Stiles remembered being very angry at Scott for involving his dad.

But apparently he wasn't angry enough because he passed out.

Belatedly, Stiles realized he had his eyes closed this whole time. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see Derek holding his hand, head laying on his arm as he drooped against the hospital bed Stiles was currently in. Normally Stiles would have frowned at such an unusual sight, but the fact was he was too tired to care. He tried to speak lightly so as not to startle Derek out of his slumber.

"They let you in here with all that blood on your shirt," he asked, his voice sounding hoarse even to his own human ears.

Derek chuckled, making Stiles smile and crack his already split lip. Derek sat up and looked at him with a tired expression.

"I told them we were in the same car accident," Derek said calmly, fingers circling tiny spirals into Stiles's palm.

"Do they think you ran me over with your car? "

Derek stared intently at him. God, what color are those eyes? He always knew they were some beautiful color but they were so close to him right now they were all he could really focus on.

Derek was so close to him right now, Stiles could practically smell him.

Not that he's ever thought of doing that. That would be weird.

Absolutely weird.

"I told them we were in the car together," Derek said softly.

But Stiles paid little attention to the words coming out of Derek's mouth. He was too busy tracing Derek's lips with his free hand. He felt funny. Like something was coursing through his blood stream; adrenaline, maybe?

"St- Stiles, what are you doing?" Derek stammered.

"I honestly don't know, " he said as he felt himself slowly gravitate towards Derek. Derek seemed to lean into him.

Of course, that's when Scott walked in.

Stiles sat up like he'd been electrocuted.

"Stiles! You're awake. I thought you were dying!" He yelled as he threw himself to Stiles's side.

Stiles winced.

"Scott, use your inside voice, god damn, " he hissed.

"Oh sorry, bro," he said with sincerity.

Stiles looked back to Derek to see he was sitting back in his seat looking annoyed at Scott.

"Oh and your dad's somewhere in the building, I'm suppose to tell him if you wake- Hey what's that smell," Scott said, scrunching his nose in an adorable way as if to emphasize there was a smell apparently attacking his delicate senses.

Stiles looked at Derek to see that he looked unusually pale and that he was sweating. Stiles was concerned.

"Dude, are you okay? Is the smell hurting you too ?" Stiles asked.

Derek looked at him, sweating bullets and said "What? No, I'm fine. I just-"

"Dude, I'm telling you, it smells weiiiird. In fact, I think it's coming from-"

He didn't finish his sentence.

Because Derek, Derek Hale, I'm-The-Alpha-Now-Derek-Hale, literally leaped out of his chair, screeched a brief "Sorry" and ran away. In fact, running away was a generous way to describe that. Scampering was a term that came to mind.

Scott looked at him in confusion.

"Dude, what was that about? " Scott asked.

"Damned if I know," Stiles answered, just as confused as Scott.

Scott shrugged it off and turned on the T.V. Dr. Sexy M.D was on. Scott looked at the screen then back at him. Minutes later they were still watching it, yelling at the characters and laughing at the bad acting. The Sheriff walked in on them like that. The two best friends watching T.V and smiling. It brought a brief warmth to the Sheriff's heart as it had been a long time since he'd seen these two together like this.

Except Stiles had never been in the hospital before, he thought, wincing.

Stiles noticed him lingering by the door way.

"Hey dad," he said with a guilty smile, knowing full well he was in a lot of trouble.

The Sheriff gave him a weary smile.

"Thank you, Scott, for telling me that Stiles woke up. Knew I could count on you," the Sheriff said jokingly.

Understanding flooded Scott's eyes.

"Oh shi-shiznits. I am so sorry, sir, I completely forgot," Scott babbled.

The Sheriff walked over to the bed and comfortingly squeezed Scott's arm.

"Scott, I'm kidding. Besides, Melissa told me," he said.

Scott sighed a sigh of relief.

"So, a car crash, huh?" He said, narrowing his eyes at Stiles as he focused on him with the eye of authority he liked to bring out whenever he spoke to criminals.

Stiles gulped.

"Yep," he answered casually.

"Huh. So you wanna explain what you were doing in the same car as Derek Hale?" The Sheriff asked, giving him a pointed look.

Stiles looked for a plausible lie. He hated having to lie to his dad but he'd hate it even more if his dad knew where he really got those wounds from.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Scott came to the rescue.

"They were on a date," Scott said in a nonchalance tone.

Stiles choked on his tongue.

Sheriff Stilinski's face looked so constipated he could have given Bella Swan a run for her money.

Scott, the bastard, decided to leave, with the lame excuse that he had to ask his mom something.

Ask her what, Scott? What could you possibly have to ask her?

Stiles looked at everything but his dad, knowing full well how red his face was. John Stilinski cleared his throat and casually sat on the corner of the hospital bed. The silence was so soooo very awkward. Stiles started to internally panic. Being on a date with Derek made more sense than anything he could have come up with and it's not like Derek wasn't a hot piece of ass (Stiles had eyes, Thank You Very Much) but he was pretty sure Derek was straight.

Like super straight.

Derek was so straight, it hurt.

It hurt Stiles a lot.

On a daily basis.

Get your head out of the teenage angst, Stilinski.

He focused on his current situation.

...He wasn't 100% straight, so this conversation was bound to come up. Might as well get it over with.

"Stiles?" His dad asked tentatively.

"Yeah, dad?" He asked, snapping out of his thoughts.

The Sheriff took a deep breath, faced Stiles and said "But really, Stiles, Derek Hale?"

Stiles let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"No, but seriously, Stiles, Derek? What about that Lahey kid, he seems nice. I see Scott and him hanging out a lot, I'm sure Scott could talk to him for you," the Sheriff said exasperatedly.

Stiles laughed.

And then proceeded to cough and just ow, no more laughing for him.

"So you're okay with this? Me being Bi? Like you're cool with it , you don't ca-" he couldn't-

"Breathe, Stiles, breathe!"

Stiles took a deep breath.

The Sheriff's eyes filled with worry and Stiles hated himself for putting that look on his dad's face.

"Stiles, you know I love you, no matter what. All that other stuff? It doesn't matter. You're what matters," his father said fiercely, eyes shining bright.

To this day, Stiles refuses to admit he cried.

Cried like a baby.

Normally, Stiles thought it was ok to shed some manly tears (if the Winchesters can do it, why can't he?), but he already lost some of his masculinity when Derek carried him out of the cellar bridal style.

And yes.

He'd been lucid enough to remember that.

Vividly.

After ten minutes of not-tears-just-my-swag-leaking-out and manly hugging, the Sheriff explained that the doctors wanted to keep him overnight. He then told Stiles that he had the night shift but would be coming back later and that Stiles should get some sleep. Stiles quite agreed. The Sheriff kissed him on the forehead and headed out.

The lights were dimmed, his door was closed and he was hooked to an I.V bag.

The perfect setting for a good night's drugged induced sleep.

But of course, he couldn't sleep.

So naturally, he self-realized.

Ok, so today he was kidnapped, held captive with the most annoying werewolf to date and was beaten up by a girl. But to be fair to himself, that girl had been an Alpha. He was then rescued. By Derek, nonetheless. Stiles had been expecting Scott but got Derek. Which wasn't bad. Derek and he were on good terms. They even sometimes had playful banter because believe it or not, Derek actually had a sense of humor. No one believed Stiles about that.

But Derek saved him. Derek Hale.

Derek, who carried him like a total girl.

Derek, who gives him intense stares and rolled eyes.

Derek, who found him Annoying as** FUCK** but so did everyone else, but Derek found him less annoying than everyone else.

Derek, who he's pretty sure he would have kissed if Scott had not interrupted.

Stiles stopped breathing.

This was not good. This was so very not good.

When he started to breathe again, he also started shaking. Shitshitshitshitshishit no he couldn't like Derek, that was a terrible idea, dear god **no**. He ran a hand through his hair, something he could do now since he had been putting off cutting it. Fuck, Derek probably knew. Werewolves can smell that kind of thing.

**OH MY GOD THAT'S WHAT SCOTT SMELLED EARLIER.**

Stiles let out a shaky breath. Oh God, no wonder Derek bolted out of there like that. Stiles was horrified. But its okay, he assured himself, everyone likes Derek. Derek is hot, everyone knows that. It's okay. It's okay.

His door opened to show Melissa McCall coming in with a syringe in hand.

"Stiles, is everything okay, your heart rate is through the roof," she said with a concerned tone.

He smiled sheepishly at her and mouthed a "Sorry"

She shook her head fondly and proceeded to stab his I.V bag with her syringe.

"Wha-What's that? " he asked, yawning.

"I upped your dose of morphine. I forgot you'd have a harder time sleeping this off," she said pursing her lips.

Stiles tried to nod his head in appreciation but he could no longer control any of his limbs, nor his thoughts. Sleep had taken over and his last thoughts were about Blue-Green eyes.


	7. Sexual Frustration Leads To Sexual Angst

The hospital released him early. According to them anyway. Stiles had stayed for two nights. Two nights too many. When he was released it was on Friday and he didn't even get the joy of skipping out of school because of injury.

Friday was teacher planning day.

What a waste.

His injuries weren't too bad, they mostly consisted of cuts and bruises but he was advised not to lean too much of his weight on his right foot. It wasn't broken or sprained; just sore. Stiles was slightly disappointed because he felt a whole lot worse than what his injuries actually required.

Whatever, spring break was next week.

Scott came, picked him up and dropped him off at home. He stayed for awhile and played some video games with him. Stiles was glad for it but after two hours, Stiles sighed in defeat and said "Scott, just GO."

Scott gave him a sheepish grin. Like Stiles could miss the way he kept twitching and checking his phone for a text from Allison.

"Dude, seriously, it's fine. Go do your thing," he said.

Scott beamed at him.

Clearly forgetting Stiles's injuries, Scott hugged him and said a quick "Thanks," as he ran off to go suck face with Allison.

Ew.

After hissing his discomfort from that fucking hug, Stiles started for his room. He surveyed the living room for minute. Considered and then came to the conclusion that he'd clean up later after a nice afternoon nap. Going up stairs when you're sore is such a bitch. After he reached his room and had stopped wheezing like Rip Van Winkle, he turned on his lamp.

Only to discover Derek Hale laying in his bed.

Like it was HIS bed.

"AHH OH MY GOD ARE YOU TRYING to kill me, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, besides the whole I-Like-To-Brood-In-The-Dark-Like-Every-Stereotype-Ever?!" Stiles screeched.

Derek just barely lifted his head from one of his pillows, blearily looked at him and said "Turn off the light."

Stiles scoffed in disbelief.

So what if Derek's hair was adorably mussed and his voice was rough with sleep?

This was still weird.

"Um, no Derek, how about you tell me why in your spare time you seem to be always crawling into teenagers's bedrooms? Because I feel like you need an intervention about that."

Derek responded by flipping him off and snuggling up to Stiles's pillow.

Oh Fuck No.

Normally in a situation like this, Stiles would have pushed said person in his bed OFF his bed and hope not to get mauled, because lets face it, most of Stiles's friends mauled people like most people flick each other. The joys of Werewolf packs.

But Stiles was tired and a bit irritated with Scott.

Oh, and don't forget that Derek Freaking Hale, the man from everyone's wet dreams, was laying in his bed.

Without a shirt.

Oh my god, why is he shirtless.

No. Why. Whyyyy.

"Dude, how long have you been here," he asked as he shoved his way into his OWN bed because it was being packed with hot Werewolf muscle.

Like seriously, Derek's abs had abs.

Stiles winced a little when he lifted his right foot onto the little space available on his bed for his feet. Sensing his discomfort does discomfort have a smell?, Derek scooted over and made room for Stiles. Stiles gently laid on his back and looked up at his ceiling.

"I just got here," Derek murmured into his pillow but loud enough for Stiles to hear.

"Why are you here, though? Don't you have puppies to take care of?"

Derek ignored the dog joke and said "They can take care of themselves."

"Don't think I haven't noticed how you completely avoided the first half of my question," Stiles said staring straight at the ceiling as a faint blush crept unto his cheeks.

Dead Silence.

Derek finally broke the silence and said "I don't wanna talk about it." He then turned on his side as if the conversation was over.

Now Stiles looked at him.

"Well listen up, Poptart, I don't think you exactly have a choice here if you wanna continue to hog my blankets. You at least owe me some kind of explanation," he said.

No response, whatsoever.

Well that just won't do.

Gently, Stiles rolled to his side, facing Derek's back.

God that tattoo was practically lickable.

FOCUS STILINSKI

"Derek," he said, prodding the center of Derek's back.

Derek feigned sleep.

"Derek. Derek. Derek. DerekDerekDerekDerekDerek, I know you're awake!"

Maybe it was the Adderall or the adrenaline from being in such close proximity with Derek that made him do it. Either way, Stiles ended up clamoring on top of Derek and whispered in his ear "Tell me."

Derek's body went stiff and then Stiles was rolled over and pinned underneath Derek. Stiles gasped and Derek leaned in closer, his nose pressed against Stiles's neck, barely, his stubble rubbing deliciously on the skin there and INAPPROPRIATE BONER INAPPROPRIATE BONER INAPPROPRIATE GOD DAMN BONER. Derek balanced himself on his elbows, shifting his weight from Stiles but not his eyes. God what color is that even-

And then Derek got off him.

"Whoa whoa where-"

"Out. I'm going out. I'm-I'm not tired anymore," Derek said through gritted teeth.

And then he just jumped off the window ledge and left.

Stiles laid back, dazed and said "whattheactualfuck," in a breathless tone.

Little did he know that somewhere near by, there was a certain Alpha hitting his head against a tree over his own stupidity.


End file.
